Chapter Text
sweet dreams of holly and ribbon
mistakes are forgiven
everything is icy and blue
& you would be there too
“Are you stressed about your classes? Maybe exams?”
“Uh...” You sit there tongue-tied, eyes flicking from the doctors’ kind gaze to your intertwined hands, struggling to answer him. Sure you are stressed. You are worried that your pet rabbit now hates you while your pet guinea pig will never warm up to you and that you are a mess that is falling apart whether in your classes or at your job and you don’t earn enough and you have upcoming finals—
Sure. Stressed. Let’s go with that.
Helpless, you hum noncommittally. A part of you feels bad for how terrible of a patient you make now. As a medical student, you should know better and do, but knowing better doesn’t necessarily equate to acting better. Internally sending a quiet apology the doctor’s way, you exit with a soft sound of gratitude, a prescription of supplements clenched in between a white-knuckled grip that you throw in the trash on your way out.
Not like you can afford the extra expense; it’d be easier just to add some sprouts to your daily diet.
‘Whatever of it that there is,’ you think with a hint of mortification. Heat creeps to the back of your neck as you hurry home, forgoing the bus this time in favour of letting the cool air clear your mind.
On paper, the facts are that there is nothing wrong with you. Your scans came back clear, tests negative and report good enough that you don’t have to go back for a second round. There is really no reason for you to think anything otherwise either but a part of you, the part that feeds onto facts and is stubborn, refuses to accept this verdict. If you are okay why do you keep having fainting spells? Maybe the doctor missed something? What if that is true and you have some hidden tumour that isn’t big enough to be visible on those scans? Internal bleeding? What if your life is all but a ticking timer?
Groaning, you stop and rake a hand through your hair. This is insane, you are just being stupid and paranoid. A 5 yr. old would be more sensible and it’s not like you have time for what if’s. What if this—What if that—What if nothing.
You are fine, your tests are fine, everything is fine. There are more pressing matters that need your attention and being paranoid is not one of them.
So maybe everything is not fine.
The sight that welcomes you back home is disconcerting but not entirely unexpected. Bowls upturned, clothes were strewn about, your eyes track as spilt water wets the bottom of your soles and in the middle of all this chaos are your housemates, backs arched and visibly hostile.
“Kook?” You call cautiously. The chances of him being the one who listens to you are higher even under the current less than ideal circumstances. As things stand, you and Jinnie are still stuck in a stalemate, you none the wiser as to what his issue with you is.
“Hey buddy, everything okay?” Eyes flicking between the tense figures of your two pets you inch closer steps heavy for reasons more than just the weight of books against your back. You think the smaller of the two tracks your advance but it’s hard to be sure when his face is tipped down, nose grazing the floor.
“Right. Well, that’s enough for today. The living room is a mess and you two need to stop with whatever alpha showdown you have going on here,” sidestepping a toy you pick up Kookie’s hissing figure. Angry exhales tickle your skin as you move to your bedroom, pushing open the door before you unceremoniously drop him on the bed. “Stay.” His twinkling eyes look back at you accusingly and the ends of your lips twist in disappointment.
By the time you make it back, the living room is empty, no sign of the other culprit and not an iota of you is surprised. The burn of disappointment that flares up every time your guinea pig ignores is something you have almost grown accustomed to.
Almost.
With a sigh you bend down and start collecting the stray pieces of food, avoiding the puddles of water all over. Maybe you should be more responsible, maybe you should be confronting your pets right now, showing them your displeasure, finding ways to teach them to get along better but god you are so fucking tired. Tired of the seemingly endless exams, tired of always being tight on cash, tired of how long this day has been and god you are just…exhausted.
Tears burn your eyelids like acid, brimming against the edge but you stubbornly refuse to let them fall. You can’t be weak; you have never allowed yourself to before and that can’t change now. You are not a child anymore and even if you did want to fall there’s no one to catch you. Your spine is all that holds you straight and you cannot bend or shatter. Not today. Not now.
It’s easier to pick yourself back up when you realise no one else will. Folding your hurt into a box you push it to the back of a dusty shelf not to be touched again until the day you seek it out again driven by a masochistic need to torture yourself. Feel the pain to assure yourself of the fact that you can still feel.
Your home feels quiet again, the air laced with the familiar stifling silence born out of both words unsaid and words that should never have been said. You pick up things, take your time soaking up the water off your carpet, spend a minute too long staring blankly at the floor before your senses snap back and you move mechanically again, eyes dry and heart heavy yet hollow with nothing and everything that you refuse to acknowledge.
The heavy air is sliced when a sharp ring brings you back to attention and confused you stray to where your bag is still leaning against the side of the door, forgotten before in your haste to solve your pets confrontation.
Who could be calling you right now? You rarely get calls in general but so late in the day? almost never. The anxiety that perennially simmers under your skin itches and prods your veins and you pray that the day isn’t about to grow worse.
“Hello?” the greeting dripping with obvious hesitance.
“Oh hey! Hi-um. I am glad I caught you. I know it’s late, I-oh! um...are you free?”
It takes you a fair minute to process what you are hearing and a second more to realise who the person speaking is.
“Mark?”
“Yeah. Hi.”
Blinking, you fumble, trying to find words that aren’t coming to you and ultimately ending up with another lame, “Hey.”
He clears his throat in a vain attempt to diffuse some of the awkwardness swimming between you two and you internally kick yourself in the rear, embarrassed of your inability to use speech. Somehow the poor man always ends up having to deal with the clutz you.
“Um listen. about this afternoon-” he starts and you have to bite back a mortified groan.
“It’s fine! You are good, I apologise for blowing up like that. That was stupid.” You reply, all but ready to bury the whole humiliating affair behind you to never revisit.
“NO!" you startle, almost losing grip of the phone, "I am so sorry about the dishes. That was irresponsible and you shouldn’t have to clean up after me, it’s unfair and I should have done better.”
The earnest shame and chagrin in his voice have you thinking for a minute more on what you want to say, words shuffling to find their rightful spot as you stand there torn between giving him false reassurances and accepting his apology and in turn agreeing to his wrong.
Ultimately you settle with a half-hearted, "It's fine honestly."
Maybe he picks up on the fact that you aren't being completely honest because he continues, "No it's not and I should have realised it sooner. This is not the first time you have gone out of your way to do one of my chores and I shouldn't have taken it for granted or abused our friendship like that. It was a shitty thing to do. I am sorry."
Heartfelt as his apology is, it leaves you with a tight throat and you swallow around a heavy tongue weighed down by all the false refusals you were ready to dish out a second ago.
"Thank you." It's not very eloquent and maybe you should cushion it with some explanation and reassurance but it has been so long since you mattered to anyone enough to be apologised to and even longer since you didn't shrug their mistakes off like your hurt was nothing. This time you want to be selfish, and maybe just honest enough to acknowledge that yeah. you do deserve better.
Your gratitude adorably and understandably enough leaves Mark the tiniest bit off-kilter and you don't bite back your chuckle when you hear him nervous fumble on the other end.
"It's alright really, don't worry about it." You finally reassure him and slide down onto the floor, back still leaning against the hardwood of your front door.
"So what were you doing?"
"Aahh..." Raking your gaze across the state of your living room, you decide that you have channelled enough honesty for the day and that explaining what you walked into would take more energy than you currently possess.
"Cooking."
It's not too far off a lie, if time had been following its usual norm you would be cooking right about now. The thought of a full stomach and warm bed has you sighing out longingly.
"Damn it smells that good huh. You gotta invite me over for dinner sometime. I am a broke, starving college student aiming for your motherly instincts here."
You snort at the way he says it all with a straight voice. "Sure, maybe when I am not broke too."
He hums like he is actually considering it and you shake your head, knowing he can't see the way your lips curl up in exasperated fondness. Mark is a little clueless at times but you've never doubted that behind the dimpled smile and sculpted abs lives a kind soul. It's easy to crush on him because he is painfully adorable but also so well and truly out of your reach that it feels safe. A fall that will never truly land, hard or soft. Just a constant state of suspension until one day you are just...not.
Eventually, you get comfortable, losing track of time as you sit there, slouched against the door and have an easy-going conversation. Any other day and you'd be worried about the inevitable crick in your neck but today a distraction is exactly what you need and when the opportunity presents itself, you grab it with both hands. It also doesn't hurt that Mark wears charm like a second skin, seemingly managing to keep the conversation going every time your inability to do the same presents itself.
“How are your studies?” He asks with a full mouth and your eyes roll. Of course, he is munching on something. The man is as impatient and fidgety as they come.
“Decent.” You say, shrugging.
He pauses and you wait for him to talk, flicking dirt from under your nails.
Nasty. You should save up and get your nails done as a birthday gift.
“Everything good with college?”
“Yeah, it’s all good. I am just-” you break off, searching for the right words, “burned out I guess.”
“Burned out?”
Nose scrunching up unseen to any eyes, you lean forward. Tracing mindless patterns onto the floor you confess, “Yeah. I recently adopted two pets and it has been rough juggling studies and work with two other breathing beings.”
You can literally hear the way he perks up, “Oh damn! What are they?”
"A rabbit and a guinea pig." Your gaze roams across in an attempt to find either.
"That's cute. Tiny, furry company? Always a win."
You snort and hum in agreement, talking for a few more before you decide to retire for the night. Exchanging pleasantries, you promise to catch him tomorrow for lunch and end the call.
In the quiet of the room after, you can't ignore the way your body protests any motion, bones seemingly melting into themselves until you are all but a curled ball. The cheap carpet feels slightly rough against your cheeks but it is still better than the cold floor and so with one last check of the freshly filled bowls of water and food, you close your eyes and let yourself drift off to a mindless sleep. Quietly promising yourself to do better from now on.
Moist. Nearly wet, and definitely warm.
Tickles.
Cracking open a blurry eye, you wait for your vision to clear. Scratching the edges free of any dried crust when blinking repeatedly doesn't help. What you first register is white, a whole lot of blinding white that almost makes you close your eyes again until you see the two black glittery eyes amidst the excess fur that sends you back scrambling.
"K-Kookie!"
Unlike your haggard and far too disoriented self, your rabbit manages to look unfazed. Gazing at you calmly like he has all the patience and time in the world.
You blink. He blinks back.
Taken aback and a little unsure on how to proceed now that he has stopped treating you like a dead fly stuck on the wall, you sigh and stretch to look around. If he is going through some momentary phase of wanting to reconcile, well you aren’t going to spook him away by being overwhelming.
"Morning Bud."
A wet nose bumps into the side of your ankle in response.
The walls of your chest feel a little too tight and a part of you is embarrassed by how desperately you crave the attention of your pet. Maybe it’s a side effect of living on your own for so long or maybe you are just unhinged but Kookie seemingly reconciling with you is the highlight of your month and there is no changing that beyond embarrassing and borderline sad fact.
Your steps throughout the day feel lighter than they have in a long time and if the ridiculously big and constant smile on your face is a little too big, well no one complains.
Through the gaps in the curtain, rays of sun slip in, bathing the room a soft shimmer of gold. The air smells of wet mud, like freshly watered plants and citrus.
A sigh lifts the blanket of silence and the scrape of a chair scraping against the floor unfurls it.
Steps.
One, two and three, until it’s clear someone is pacing the length of the room. Their steps, agitated and a little too quick to be comfortable.
“Please stop pacing hyung,”
“I can’t,” comes the responding hiss. Choked, more air than any real sound, it screams desperate. Like the response of a man pushed too far, a hair widths length away from hysterical.
The other occupant of the room looks at the man who is pacing with an increasingly worried gaze, sun colouring his lenses a crystal icy blue. Eyes that grow more and more glassy as the seconds tick by, fingers that sit upon creased fabric and it’s clear that he hasn’t showered in some time. Messy, clumped hair that sticks to his forehead, nails with jagged ends that seem bitten off and uneven.
A puff is heard in the back, and the wave of citrus rolls back in stronger. The room freshener worked diligently and yet underneath the superficial layer, one could breathe in the distress the two men were feeling.
“Where’s Yoongi?”
Blue eyes flicked away for a second.
“Out I guess?”
“Dammit, Taehyung! You were supposed to keep an eye on him!”
“I was keeping an eye on him! He said he’s going out to get some air! You know how he gets I couldn’t just keep him in,”
A muffled groan rings out and blue eyes observe as the agitated man continues to fall apart. Every second away from their soulmate splintering them in ways they hadn’t thought possible.
It should have been easy, they had a plan, things were supposed to go according to their plan and yet —
“Fuck!”
-everything was falling apart.
Balanced precariously, you place both bowls of food down, mindful to not drop your phone and crack it any further. With your friendship with Kookie mended, you finally get your head out of your self deprecating ass enough to realise how you haven’t been the best owner to your other pet either. While Kookie and you seem to be back to cuddling on the couch for movie nights, things with Jinnie are still the same. No worse than they were before, which isn’t exactly what you wish was the case.
Sure he was no longer skittering away at the sight of you but with him being as apathetic as he is to your presence, it’s not really the kind of reassurance that your attention-starved soul is looking for either.
Food sorted, you scrounge up enough courage to seek out your ever-elusive and huffy guinea pig. One thing looking up for you today is the fact that Kookie is still sleeping and while you adore that little whiskered ball of joy to death, there was no denying his attention whore tendencies. While you were, and this sounds insane to even your own ears, a little intimidated by Jinnie, Kookie didn’t exactly make the whole process of bonding any easier. Somehow managing to snag your attention every time you try to give it to Jinnie.
The realisation of how utterly bizarre your new family dynamics are knocks against the door of your conscience time and again and you can never string together a sensible enough explanation to justify it.
You are weird and so your pets are weird too. That is all. The crazy apples didn’t fall far from the tree.
Eyes zoning in on your target, you observe the way Jinnie lays sprawled under the warm rays of the morning sun. The relaxed half-lidded expression of contentment, one you haven’t gotten the chance to see much before. He looks peaceful, quiet but happy. His peach pink nose twitches every few inhales and his tiny mouth barely even visible from the distance, is parted open. A sliver of guilt seeps in at the risk of dissipating that cloud of contentment you can almost see hovering over him.
While you have no way of knowing for sure what the ages of either of your pets are, something about the way Jinnie carries himself has you leaning towards him being the older one.
Letting go of some of the regret that comes with bursting his bubble, you call out, “Jinnie!”